Diamond in the Rough
by Peachly
Summary: The story of Aladdin superimposed with our favorite crew. Based mainly on the Disney version, but also others. Not as stupid as it sounds. Promise. Kirk/Spock slash!
1. Prologue

With the Sultan's palace towering over, you walk down the markets of Agrabah. Houses and buildings made of hardened mud and rocks line the thin alley. It's so packed with people; it's difficult for you to walk even a meter. The air is hot and heavy and dry in your throat. You're thankful for the water pouch you've brought to quench your parched mouth. The sand the breeze kicks up stings your eyes and your exposed face and hands. The layers of rough clothing you wear are cumbersome, but it saves you from the sand and the sun. Your sweat would make you feel dirty, but let's face it: The last time you had a bath was a while ago; water is so hard to come by in the desert that it's only used for drinking. You're thankful everyone else wears as much clothing as you do, or your and their body odor would mix with the other distinctive smells. The smells that cut into your nostrils. Fish. Dung. Smoke. Burnt trash. Camels.

The shops are small and crammed together. It's difficult to tell one stall from another. The sellers are barely visible over all of their wares, which overflow into neighboring stalls. The only way you actually know what they are there is by the loud shouts heard, mixing into the yells of the other venders and blending together much like their wares. Patrons also make a lot of noise, ordering and bartering and arguing.

You crane your neck over the crowds, trying to glimpse the things for sale.

Dates and nuts. Spices. Herbs. Salt. Sugar. Cinnamon. Powers. Fish. Meat. Chickens. Apples. Melons. Bananas. Pineapples. Coconuts. Bread. Chilies. Peppers. Cacti. Cabbage. Roots. Wines. Vinegar.

Silks. Animal skins. Yarns. Blankets. Rugs. Woven baskets. Pottery. Bowls. Bracelets. Necklaces. Earrings. Rings. Broaches. Gold. Silver. Copper. Tin. Jewels that sparkle. Stones that shine. Perfumes. Oils. Pipes. Lamps. Statues. Candles. Trunks and boxes. Drums. Horns. Bells. Cymbals. Charms to ward off spirits.

Ah, but none of these things truly interest you. You haven't ridden on a rude spitting camel for a fortnight with nothing but your mother-in-law's nagging for company to buy such common things. You want something special. You want something to make your journey worthwhile. You have a pouch with gold coins tucked – you put a hand to your waist – tucked securely beneath your belt. You want to find something to spend them on.

You manage to squeeze your way through the main street of the market and are shoved roughly into a small side ally. It is shaded from the sun by the buildings. It's then that you realize, looking back on the brightly lit mass of people, that the market was positioned from west to east so that sun would light it for as long as possible, as soon as the sun rose until the sun set. You consider shoving your way back into the crowd, but decide against it. There was nothing exciting on sale there anyway.

The darkened alley is quieter than the main part you just left. The smell is also much less pungent, thankfully. The stalls are further apart and the venders do not shout, trying to get your attention. Here, the goods are much of the same, which of course gives way to suspicion as to what they are really selling if they can manage to keep their stalls here. There are even items with dust and are worn from the blowing sand. But it's cooler and less crowded, so you continue on.

After half an hour of walking through the back alley labyrinth, a seller calls out to you just as you pass his stall. "Sir! Sir!"

It has been so long since a vender has called to you that you jump and jerk your head over. He is obviously a foreigner. He is very young. His skin is paler and his hair is lighter, though it is just as curly as anyone else here.

You hesitate.

He enthusiastically waves you over. "Good ewening to you, comrade! Kom closer! Kom closer!"

You cautiously approach the stand.

He slams his hands on his stall and you jump again. "Welkom, sir! Welkom to my entwerprising stand! Ewerything on sale today! It is some'sing special you look for, дa? Pasha is hawing it for you, guaranteed!"

You stand there, still as a statue. What the hell did he say?

"Here, here!" He reaches under his stall and takes out a strange metal box. It looks like just a shiny container, but there is no way to open it. Instead there are two long, wide slits on top of it. You lean over to look into the box. It looks like it's mostly filled with metal. He beams at you. "It was inwented in Russia."

You look at him puzzled.

"You hawing bread, дa? You hawing bread and it is cold and limp and is hawing no taste. Yжасно! You want it heated up. Put slice in top," he takes out a piece of bread and puts it in the box, "pressing dis down," he presses a strange leaver, "wait a moment."

He stands there, smiling at you. You shift your weight and glance down at the box. What is he waiting for? You sniff the air and smell something burning.

Suddenly the bread pops out of the box and you jump back. Black smoke is coming out of the box.

"Ah! Eh," the boy says. He reaches in and takes out the bread, which has been blackened to a crisp. "Er." He laughs nervously. "Dis is not what you are wanting!" He tosses the bread aside and picks up the box and places it in his stall again.

You hear him mumbling in a strange language and rummaging through more items. It is not long before he comes back up with a new object: a long metal cylinder with glass in one end.

"Another Russian inwention! You are in the dark, дa?" the boy starts again. "You looking for some'sing, but you can no find! Too dark! You take dis," he points the object to the side, "and click." He presses a button on it. Nothing happens. "Ah!" He looks at it and hits the side of it with his palm. Again, nothing seems to happen.

You begin to walk away. This boy is crazy. And probably a wizard. You saw what he did to that bread. What if he shrinks you down puts_ you_ in that box next?

"Ah! Sir! Sir!" The boy puts down the object and steps out from his stand to catch up with you. "Of course!" he exclaims. "Of course you are not wanting any of dat junk. You are looking for some'sing wery special! Дa! You are looking for dis!" He reaches into his sleeve and pulls out a lamp. It is gold but tarnished and rough. "Ah! Do not be fooled by its common appearance!" He lowers his voice. "Дa, it is not what is outside, but it is the inside that counts."

You begin to walk away from the boy but he stops you again. "Dis is no ordinary lamp, comrade! Дa! It once changed the life of a young man! A young man who was like this lamp: more dan he appeared!" The boy leans in and lowers his voice to a whisper again. "A true diamond in the rough." He straightens and beams at you again. "I can see! You are not beliewing me! You are wanting to hear the tale? Дa, дa! Kom!" He herds you back to the front of his stall. He tips the lamp and shiny sand pours out of it and into his palm. "It begins on a wery dark night." He throws it into the air. "A night where a wery dark man waits for a wery dark purpose…"


	2. Unworthy

Nero sits on his black steed at the top of a sand dune. This is their agreed meeting place, the largest dune an hour's ride from the limits of Agrabah, the shape of the Palace just barely on the horizon. The sands are always shifting and there are no landmarks in the desert. Tomorrow, this dune may be eroded down to nothing. But now, it sits tall. The wind is calm. Stars fill the sky, giving more light than the thin crescent moon. It probably would have been better to meet when the moon was gone, but he finds himself impatient.

"Do you think he got it?" Ayel, his servant, suddenly speaks. He stands in between their horses, holding both reigns.

Nero sneers, but doesn't reply. He does not suffer unnecessary conversation.

A shadowed figure finally appears over a nearby dune. It was only another minute before he approached, halting his horse and jumping off.

"You are late, _Kras_," Ayel spat.

"Many apologies," the Klingon says insincerely, a patronizing smile on his lips. He glances up at Nero, who merely looks at him as if he is a disgusting bug he is fighting the urge to squash.

"You have it, then?" Nero's servant prompts.

Kras gives a hollow chuckle. "I had to slit more throats than I expected," he says has he reaches into his tunic. "But that only makes the job more enjoyable, wouldn't you say?" He brings out a small golden artifact. It is a flat triangle with a diamond at one of the corners. The starlight glints off of the smooth metal and a malicious smile appears on Nero's face.

Ayel reaches out to take the triangle, but Kras jerks it away from his grasp, giving a crooked grin. "No, no. Not until I receive my payment."

Ayel grabs the Klingon by the collar and sticks a knife under his throat, the tip digging into his skin. Fear flashes in his eyes as he slowly holds out the small golden triangle.

"You'll get what you're due, Klingon," Ayel growls as he snatches it from the slightly shaking hand and walks back, handing it up to the horsed Romulan.

Nero studies the gold for a moment before reaching into his own tunic and takes out another artifact. It is a silver circle, slightly oblong, with a large wedge removed. He aligned the two with more care than he has ever given anything else. When the two pieces clicked together, it suddenly glowed bright and flew out of Nero's hands and into the night.

"After it!" Nero yells and spurs his horse forward.

Traveling across dunes, the glowing artifact flew in between, causing Nero to lose sight of it for a moment and urge his horse to go faster. The light slowed and rested on the steep slope of a dune. There was a large rumble. The horses reared back and all three were thrown off. Sand began to rise as a large rock grew from the ground. The medallion sat on the center of the door to the cave.

"At last," Nero murmurs. "_Tauk T'Tauraya_." He reaches over and grabs Kras by the throat, pulling him closer. "Remember! First, you find the lamp, and bring it to me. The rest of the treasure is yours, but the lamp is _mine_!"

Kras nods quickly and Nero throws him forward, causing him to stumble. The Klingon creeps, a large smile on his face, towards the cave's entrance.

The medallion suddenly rotates and the door slowly opens. A man walks out of the cave to stand at the entrance. It is an elderly Vulcan. His hair was gray and his face wrinkled from a long life. He wore distain on his face as he looked at the Klingon before him. "Who disturbs my meditation?" He said with a low voice.

"It is I, Kras, a humble thief." He gave a crooked smile and bows his head.

The old Vulcan reaches out. "I must inform you: Only one may enter. One whose worth lies deep within. A diamond in the rough."

The Klingon looks back to the two Romulans.

"Well?" Ayel hisses. "What the fuck are you waiting for?"

Kras sneers before turning back, mumbling curses under his breathe. He walks forward and allows the Vulcan to place his fingertips on the side of his head. He applies pressure and delves into the Klingon's mind.

It takes less than a second for the old Vulcan to retract his hand and shake his head. "No, I apologize. But you may not enter. You must seek out the diamond in the rough."

Before Kras can respond the Vulcan retreats back into the cave. The door closes with a loud thump and the rock sinks back into the sand, leaving the medallion dismantled into two pieces once again.

All was still for a moment as they looked between each other. Kras suddenly dives towards the pieces of medallion but Ayel was quicker than the Klingon, running towards him and slicing his throat before he could reach them. There is a grunting cry and red blood splatters on the sand and over the artifacts.

Ayel picks up the bloody pieces and hands them back to his master who does not bother to wipe off the blood before placing them into his tunic.

"I should have known the Klingon filth would not be worthy," Nero snarls as he gets back onto his horse.

"What do we do now?" his servant asks.

"We find the one who _is_ worthy," Nero barks. "If only one may enter, than we find the one. We find this… diamond in the rough."

* * *

**Author's Note:** In case you don't know... The medallion is the Vulcan symbol for IDIC. The doorman is supposed to be Spock Prime. _Tauk T'Tauraya _means Cave of Amazement (there was no Vulcan equivalent for wonder haha). I'm trying to make this original and add to the Disney movie while keeping it recognizably Star Trek. Let me know how I'm doing. Nero is difficult to write... There are so few scenes with him to really get enough of a feel for the character to write it naturally.

Peachly

PS: I forgot to mention. Banbi-V is also doing Disney/ST with me. Beauty and the Beast and Little Mermaid. Check them out xD


	3. Street Rats

"Damnnit, you did that on purpose!"

Jim looks at Bones with a 'who, me?' expression.

He growls and grabs his elbow, starting to drag him down the alley and into the shadows. "The point of stealin' is to take somethin' without bein' seen."

"No, no," Jim laughed. "The point of stealing is to take something and not get caught."

"Well, you're makin' it a whole lot easier for the guards then, aren't you?"

He rolls his eyes. "You have to admit that you're bored with just stealing things and walking away."

"No!" he snaps. "Can't I just getta loaf o' bread and eat it in peace? Why do you always make me have to run around for it?"

"Uh, you'll find it more delicious after a work-out?" he tries.

Before Bones can call him an asshole, there's yelling back down the alley and a phaser blast narrowly missing their heads. This time Jim grabs his arm and drags him into an empty building. They find the stairs near the back and make it up to the second floor. Jim looks out a window over the alley on the other side of the building. "Come on." He gestures and hops out onto the ledge that trails under the window.

"Are you insane?" Bones whispers. "You know I hate heights! And falling from them!"

"We're not going to jump, and it's only the second floor," Jim says as he shimmies along the side of the building.

He curses Jim and prays to the great Federation in the sky that he doesn't die before inching out onto the ledge. He sees Jim has already made it to a balcony and he's motioning Bones to hurry. He looks straight ahead, refusing to even _think_ about glancing down and he slowly creeps along the edge.

When he gets closer, Jim grabs him and pulls him over the railing.

Bones barely has a moment to catch his breath before he looks into the doorway and groans. "Anywhere but there. I'd rather jump."

Either Jim doesn't hear his pleas or ignores them because he drags him through the silk curtain anyway. It parts to reveal a plush room filled with pillows and fabric. Not to mention all of the scantily clad courtesans, who look at them in surprise and fright until they recognize who they are and relax, choosing to ignore them instead.

"Jim!" a delighted voice comes from another room as a green Orion woman wearing a gold and black flowery outfit rushes out and throws her arms around Jim's neck, planting kisses on his face.

"Gaila," he says with a huge smile. "You're looking more beautiful than normal."

"Oh, Jim! Flattery will get you everywhere." Her golden lips curling into a large smile, rubbing the stubble along his jaw.

"Mah-Coy."

Bones turns around with a grimace to see a blonde approach him. "Eleen."

She takes his hand. She always had a weird thing about his hands. He glances at Jim and Gaila who look at them in amazement, and quickly takes his hand back.

There's a clamor of loud noises from the first floor.

"Aw, Jim," Gaila pouts. "I should have known you didn't come hear for a social call."

Bones stops himself from pointing out that they _came in through the damn balcony of course they're not here for socializing!_

Jim gives her a pout back. "Please?" he says, as innocent as he can muster, which would be surprisingly convincing if Bones didn't know he was so far away from innocent it was laughable.

"Well," she says slowly, seeming to consider it.

"Just hide us!" Bones whispers angrily.

She grins widely. "Okay!"

As she herds Jim to a large bedding of pillows and begins to bury him in them, Eleen shoves Bones to her own corner. He sees Gaila plop down on the pillows and the only indication that Jim was underneath was a low 'oof'. Bones is soon covered as well with Eleen lounging over him.

"I assure you, sir, there are no street rats hiding in my menagerie," Pike says, his voice annoyed and muffled through the pillows.

"While I don't doubt your word, they may have snuck in," he hears Sulu, a head guard, say.

Footsteps and silence follow after that as Sulu and his fellow guards begin to search the room.

"Get away from me!" Eleen snaps. Bones feels movement as if she's kicking at someone and he's never liked her so much as he does at that moment.

"Hey!" Pike snaps. "Don't touch what you haven't paid for. She's worth more than five of you."

There's a guard grumbling as the man walks away.

"Alright, they aren't here," Sulu says. "Sorry for the trouble." He can hear the guards noisily leave.

A moment later, there's suddenly a loud whistle and the sound of shuffling starts as Eleen gets up from the pillows. When all of the padded footsteps retreat out of the door, there's a pause.

"Both of you, out of the cushions."

Bones grumbles and climbed out of the pillows.

"Chris!" Jim says enthusiastically as he stumbles out. "You're looking great."

Pike frowns. "Unless you're here as a _new recruit_, get out. I don't need you spoiling the merchandise."

"With these hands?" Jim asks, bringing them up. "If I'm doing anything, I'm increasing the quality."

"I saved your pretty asses from being shot with phasers. So do me a favor. Out."

Before Jim can say anything that makes Pike call the guards back, Bones grabs him by the arm and drags him out. They make their way across Agrabah to the poorer and unsafe side of the city. The sun is low in the sky by the time they make it back to their hideout, a small run-down room in a tall empty building that they have been squatting in for years.

Jim sits on a hard bench while Bones sits against the wall. He's hungry and pissed, and the temperature is dropping, which means another cold night under scraps. He mutters curses under his breath and shifts to try and get into a more comfortable position.

Jim just looks out from the large observation window. It is almost entirely filled with the Sultan's palace, a huge structure lit up with the blue glow of spotlights from the ground. Jim always has this strange look on his face whenever he stops to look at the palace, whether they were here or running for their damn lives down a crowded street. Bones always thought it was sort of pretty, but it lost its awe-factor after a week. Jim's been staring at it like that for years.

"I don' see why you gave it all up."

Jim looks back with a subdued grin. "Gave up what?" He always gets depressed when he looks at it too.

Bones gestures vaguely to the window. "You got royal blood in you. You're supposed to be livin' in luxury. And the way you keep makin' love-eyes to the palace, it's obvious you regret leavin' it."

Jim shakes his head and looks back out the window. "It can't be the life everyone thinks it is. It can't be that great."

Bones rolls his eyes. "Yeah, I'm sure Sultan Sarek is rolling around in misery, longing to step down from his reign and live here with us street rats on a dirty floor with no food."

"That was my dad's life, Bones, and look what happened to him." Jim sighs. "I'm not going back to that." He gets up and covers the window with the tattered curtain that he hung above it. "Besides," he says with a grin. "If I hadn't left, you'd have never met me."

Bones shrugs. "Just means I'd be happier. Probably live longer, too." He smirks at the other's scowl.

He watches as Jim goes across the room and lies down, facing the wall. "Trust me, Bones. You'd be happier this way."

"I'd be happier if I wasn't hungry," he snaps.

"Sorry," Jim mutters, and he can't tell if it's sincere or not.

Bones rolls over onto his back, looking up at a bland ceiling. He honestly couldn't say that he was actually unhappy here. On the chain of street rats, they were pretty well off. But they were still street rats, and Bones preferred luxury and feasts to floors and stolen bread. He sighs and drifts to sleep, dreaming of roasted food and bourbon.


End file.
